Stygian
by TheRestrictedSection
Summary: She was a danger magnet. If there was anything that could prove it, this was it. She survived Victoria's wrath and her venom dependency, just to be done in by an accident? So this was it right, it was all over. Only, she wakes up in some other girl's body, in a world that shouldn't exist, and to make it even better? She's the only one who knows it's all about to come crashing down.
1. Story Cover

**Stygian**

**The Beginning:** You can't kill me for having a new idea, okay? It's just not allowed. The plot bunnies are running free and I can't help if they overtake me! That being said, it's official. The Twilight/Walking Dead Crossover idea has bit me, and I've succumbed to the bite. I've read a few crossovers in this section that I absolutely love, so I hope I do the idea justice. This is honestly just for fun. Hopefully, you'll all enjoy it!

**The Disclaimer:** I do not own anything Twilight/The Walking Dead related; TV Series, Novels, Movies, Comics! I know, I'm sad too. It all belongs to the authors, producers, creators, etc! I also do not own any recognizable/copyrighted/trademarked material that may be mentioned! I just like to play with the characters! I only claim the rights to my Original Character(s), and my personal plot bunnies that are created. Sadly, I make no money off of this. Hmph.

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**Casting**

Isabelle Evangeline Higgens (Bella Swan); _Holland Roden._ Lori Grimes (nee' Higgens); _Sarah Wayne Callies._ Rick Grimes; _Andrew Lincoln._ Carl Grimes; _Chandler Riggs._ Jasper Everett Whitlock; _Jackson Rathbone._ Peter Andreas Whitlock; _Maximilian (Max) Irons._ Daryl Dixon; _Norman Reedus._ Glenn Rhee; _Steven Yeun._ Shane Walsh; _Jon Bernthal._ Dale Horvath; _Jeffrey DeMunn._ Andrea Harrison; _Laurie Holden._ Amy Harrison; _Emma Bell._ Carol Peletier; _Melissa McBride._ Sophia Peletier; _Madison Lintz._

_*More to follow as they appear!*_

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**Summary:** Isabella Swan was a danger magnet, simply put. If there was anything that could prove it? This was definitely it. Give her a raging lunatic of a redhead vampire out for her blood or a venom dependency similar to an addiction of heroin and cocaine combined? No problem. She survived it all, with some help along the way, all to be done in by an everyday accident? Really?! With far more spectacular ways to die, Bella finds herself looking into the deathly abyss thanks to a runaway vehicle and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Only she wakes up in the body of some other girl, in a world that shouldn't even exist, and to make it even better? She's the only one who knows it's all about to come crashing down. She's really beginning to think she's Fate's favorite bitch.

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**Pairings:** Bella Swan/Daryl Dixon (Definite action here!). Possible QuadCouple (Jasper Whitlock/Peter Whitlock/Bella Swan/Daryl Dixon). Most Canon Pairings. Some OC/OC or OC/Canon Character.

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**Story Support/Feedback**

**Follows & Favorites:** These are always encouraged and adored! If this story catches your eye, feel free to add it to your list!

**Reviews:** Feedback is an amazing thing when it comes to the writing process, and feeding my overzealous muse. If you're worried about being annoying with a review every chapter, on behalf of all writers I beg you, DON'T. We absolutely LOVE and ADORE every single word you have to say about the stories that we devote so much time to. That being said, they are not a requirement, nor will I hold a story hostage for them. I won't force a certain number of reviews before the next chapter is released. (I can't be held accountable for my flighty muse, however. That bitch is sneaky.)

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**-Stygian; Story Information, Continued-**

**Warnings: **Mature Themes/Situations, Violence/Fighting, Some Graphic Materials, Blood/Gore, Character Death (Minor/Major), Walkers/Zombies, Murder/Assault, References To Mythical Creatures/Supernatural Creatures, Vampiric/Hybrid Abilities, Mythology/Lore/Legend/Religion, Possible Drug/Alcohol Usage, Language/Cursing, Emotional Stress/Strain, Sexual Situations/Themes, Taboo Relationships, AU!/OOC Elements, Ethical Issues, War/Fear, Strained Familial Relations/Relationships, Apocalyptic/Dystopian Themes, etc.

**Canon:** I will be leaning more heavily toward The Walking Dead side of things, following along episode timelines and the like. Some references to Twilight Novel/Movie events will be made, though my version of things for the Twilight Canon will definitely be AU. Obviously. I'll also make some jumps backward, though you'll always be able to tell.

**AU Elements:** This will technically be Original Character Centric, I suppose you can say. While she will be Bella Swan, she will be in an entirely different body and the personality of that previous soul will come into play with her own. Some parts of Bella will still show through however, the good ones. The addition of Bella, with the knowledge that she had, will make a difference with some canon events of TWD. Which ones? That's a secret!

**Update Schedule:** I will be focusing on this crossover more than some of my others that my muse is sorely lacking with currently. However, I cannot and do not want to promise constant updates, only to let readers down. I'm hoping for two to three updates a month, at least. Your feedback always helps, but I'll never hold a story hostage for reviews. This is supposed to be fun, after all!

**Reviews:** Leave all the love and feedback you want, but please do not get snarky with me. If you don't like my writing, my schedule, or the story; there are plenty more out there that you might! Don't bring others down, just move along. Thank you!

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_There is no Beta to be had here! Please, let me know if there is something crazy out of line, within reason given that it's a crossover story! Thanks!_


	2. Book I

***Darts in...glances around before whispering in case of walkers*** And so it begins...

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_"So dark, so deep, the secrets that you keep..."_  
**-Book I-**

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Honestly, she should have known better.

She groaned lowly, her throat aching in protest at even the most feeble of sounds, and she cringed. Her eyes squeezed shut, sight blurry against the brightness of artificial light, and they stung badly enough that they watered uncontrollably. The steady beeping that met her ears was not an unfamiliar sound, sadly enough, though slightly elevated as it was when she hissed in a breath. A sharp twinge of pain shot up the length of her left arm as she reached to rub her eyes, and she blinked in surprise, another raspy groan leaving her lips when the needle for the intravenous line shifted beneath her skin.

"Dammit," She coughed, reaching for her throat when it ached once more.

Her father was going to murder her, she was sure. And what a shame, after all that hard work staying alive too. Isabella Swan was not Fate's favorite, after all.

Or perhaps she _was_, given how many times she had narrowly escaped a killing blow.

There was that time she smacked Paul Lahote right across the face, enraging his wolf and calling it forth; rather stupid on her part, admittedly, but she had lost all semblance of control at that point she supposed. She thanked the Spirits for the fact that a heaping plate of her double chocolate fudge brownies and a six-pack had won the temperamental Wolf Warrior over after the fact. The whole cliff-diving incident; when she was half deranged and too strung out on Cold One pheromones to think properly, or take notice of the brewing storm that sent the water frothing below. It was Quil who had saved her that time, snatching her right off the edge as the rocks crumbled and gave way beneath her feet, disappearing into the inky depths of the ocean while he ranted and raved about her state of mind.

She'd cried for hours afterward, the stinging cold of the ocean spray a harsh wake up call, made only harsher by the sudden loss of Harry Clearwater as he'd been keeping an eye on her father in the woods.

Multiple slips down the stairs, a few ice patches on the snow-covered driveway, the motorcycle training with Jacob that she still forbade him to secrecy over...there was also that single experience with a faulty plug and an electrical socket. But she had kept that one a secret too, lest Charlie Swan deem her unfit to operate a hand mixer any longer.

And then came Victoria.

The fanged fiend, the evil bitch who just could not take no for an answer and had vowed to steal her lifesblood and witness her death, even if it brought about her own. She cared very little about her own survival it seemed, there was a pack of Wolf Warriors to fight through after all. She only seemed to care for her herself in the sense that her existence was needed in order to snuff out Bella's own. If the vampire had gotten to her first, and she had ceased breathing, the brunette had doubted the delusional redhead would have continued to put up a fight, all but offering herself up on a silver platter for her wolfy companions after seeing her mission through.

But she couldn't forget about the brush with death that had started it all, could she?

The moment she had laid eyes upon the century-old ice sculpture, better known as Edward Cullen, was the moment Bella Swan had sealed the deal with the ever-illusive deity known as destiny. She even had the frigid bite mark left behind on her wrist to prove it.

Looking back, it felt quite like making a deal with the devil.

She winced as she swallowed, her throat still throbbing with both dryness and disuse, and a small sigh of relief left her when she spied the pitcher of water that rested on the small table next to her bed. Reaching out with shaky fingers, a sharp gasp ripped its way through her chest as her ribs shifted. Her back arched with the pain, leaving her lungs burning inside of her ribcage. Bella cried out, her hand darting toward her chest, pressing in against the deep ache that radiated through her torso. The pattern of steady beeps escalated wildly, mixing with the ringing in her ears as she squeezed her eyes closed in desperate denial to the pain that was near crippling. She hardly heard the sound of a door being thrown open, nor the voices that called to her and bid her to answer their questions.

Blinking her eyes open, the figures hovering above her were blurred by pain, and a bout of nausea caused her stomach to roll, making her ease her head back down onto a surprisingly soft pillow. "W-Where am I?"

"Harrison Memorial, sweet thing." An aged, yet surprisingly smooth, voice answered. "Gave us all quite the scare."

She frowned, stuttering over her words. "What?"

"Been asleep for a couple days, sweetheart. Only to come awake and send the alarms blarin'," The voice, a woman's she could tell now, chided. "Leave it to ya to think you can run before ya even try walking!"

_Harrison Memorial? Asleep for days?!_

"Wh-Why am I-"

She blinked heavily as the lights in the room dimmed ever so slightly, just enough to make opening her eyes only a quarter as painful as before. The nurse, as she knew now, gave her a sympathetic smile, and reached out to pat at her right hand, free of both needle and tubing.

"The accident, dear. You don't remember?"

Oh, she remembered.

Bella remembered needing to cross the street, intent on crossing from the parking garage to the convention center where her very first experience with something called Comic Con was to be held.

She wasn't supposed to be by herself, both her cousin Quil and his best friend Embry were supposed to be coming with, more because they were total nerds than for their supernatural protection. But Jared had begged off patrol duty, quoting a heaving Kim as his excuse, and Sam was more than exhausted after pulling a double shift, disposing of a rogue trespasser while he was at it. Still, she had wanted to go! It was her first venture out of Forks or La Push in a little over a year, the tickets had cost a minor fortune, and the actors of her new favorite show were going to be there.

Who said zombie movies during a crippling depression and cold-turkey detox from the equivalent of supernatural heroin couldn't turn you on to your next geeky love?

She had binge-watched nearly six entire seasons within the span of three weeks in the summer. The guys were ecstatic to find someone who shared their love of blood and guts in an apocalyptic setting, and were more than happy to inform her all about the complementing comic books, merchandise, and more. A nineteen year old girl willing to spend hours on end snuggled up on a couch with two seventeen year old boys, the heat pouring off of them like radiators, and fangirling over their favorite zombie shows?

Priceless.

So how could she remain at home, knowing that she could at least go and get extra copies of everything for the two super nerds? Bella very well couldn't.

Only, she never got the chance.

The squealing of tires could be heard, echoing off the sides of the buildings around her. She turned to her right, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It was then that her feet seemed to leaden, like heavy cinder blocks had been attached to the bottoms of her shoes, anchoring her to the ground with pure terror. Even all those times, facing red eyes and venom-coated fangs, she had never quite felt the rush of terrifying emotions like she did then. There wasn't a reason to, really. There was always someone stronger, someone capable of having her back when she couldn't quite handle it herself, there by her side. But that wasn't the case this time. This time, she was alone.

For once, she didn't have a vampiric or werewolf protector.

And she was going to die because of it.

Shrill screams and roaring shouts reverberated off the cement around her; fear for her, fear for what was to come, demands for her to run, to jump out of the way.

From the corner of her eye, she saw more than one person jump off the sidewalk, attempting to rush forward for her. Others who had taken out their phones to catch quick snaps of celebrities and artists alike turned their lenses on her, capturing the moment in a morbid fascination. Briefly, she worried for Charlie's state of mind, knowing that her father would demand to see all footage of the accident that was her impending doom. A man with reddish brown hair that looked vaguely familiar, flanked by another with shoulder length brown hair, darted toward her, waving his arms frantically.

But she couldn't think of that then, had only been able to think of what she was leaving behind.

Her father, who she was finally making things up to, who finally understood what exactly had been happening in her life. It was kind of hard to hide the truth after he fired a full clip into a flaming redhead's chest, only for her to keep smiling. Her best friend, who had gotten the message that she looked to him more as a brother, and finally allowed them to be just that, thus spending a summer in blissful ignorance of the supernatural mayhem in the world. And then there was the pack; some friends, some brothers, one could have been even more. She was supposed to see him that night, to see where things could lead.

But it was all going to end, before it could even truly begin.

She had wasted so much time!

So much time, chasing an illusion of perfection that was just that, an illusion. She was finally living her life, the way she should have if her mother had never taken her away, and she had never had to grow up before she should have, and she had never laid eyes on those who had left her in ruin. And it was all going to be ripped right out from underneath her feet. Bella had survived vengeful vampires and washington winters, to die by car accident.

_Seriously?!_

Pain, blinding and hot.

She heard more than felt the impact, her body hitting the hood and then the concrete with a resounding thud. The pain had encompassed the feeling, searing her senses, robbing her of sight and hearing as her nerve-endings burned. A rush of air as her body went flying, the dull thud as she made contact with the cement below. She couldn't move. Even the barest twitch of her fingers made her feel like a blade was being sliced through muscle and bone. She tried to breathe, but it wasn't working right. She couldn't get a deep enough breath, her lungs weren't expanding properly, and the little breath she could manage felt watery. The metallic taste of iron spread across her tongue, and she whimpered when she recognized it as blood.

"Son of'a _bitch_!" Gravelly and deep, the voice cut across the ringing in her ears, sharp like a whip.

Another one yelled for emergency services as it drew closer, she couldn't place the accent. English, perhaps. Why did she care?

"Hey, hey, look at me!" A hand patted her cheek, smearing something wet across the skin. Her eyes fluttered uselessly, she really doubted she wanted to open them. "Look at me, honey, c'mon!"

Bella groaned, a broken, pitiful sound.

She opened her eyes, her gaze clashing against two pair of panicked blues. They were familiar and yet, in that moment, not. Their lips were moving, they were talking, but she couldn't focus on their words. Instead, her eyes had drifted to one thing.

The jagged scrap of metal sticking out of her chest, right where her left lung should be.

_Well then. That would explain the watery breaths. Drowning in my own blood. Too bad old Vicky can't see this!_

"You're going to be fine, just stay with me!"

Hysterical giggles tumbled from bloody lips, wetly. She relaxed back into the stranger's hold, not that her body really gave her a choice, and rolled her eyes. This guy was an idiot. She had passed the definition of fine, a long time ago.

Parting her lips, she meant to ask him what about the situation seemed like it would be fine, but all that came out was a single word behind chattering teeth.

"Cold."

"_Fuckkk.._." The word came out as an enraged hiss, and her eyes met cobalt blues that belonged to the rough-voiced brunette.

She could agree with his sentiments. Being cold was never a good sign. Being cold meant you didn't have enough blood. Being cold meant no feeling. And no feeling, meant death. Blinking slowly, she sighed tiredly.

"No, no, no!" Panicked murmurs came from the one holding her, those fingers tapping her cheek again. "Don't close your eyes, you can't close your eyes!"

Bella snorted. Of course she could.

Snapping fingers in front of her face drew her back to reality, her eyes flying open to meet wizened ones of the middle-aged nurse. She gave Bella a soothing, sympathetic smile as she took in the girl's wide eyes, the look in them somewhere between terror and surprise.

"You remember, I take it?"

Nodding, she glanced around, her eyes lingering on the newly poured cup of water. Without asking, the nurse simply held the cup toward her lips, encouraging her to sip through the straw. The water was like an instant relief, quite possibly the best thing she had ever tasted. Fresh and crisp, it was honestly surprising, given that it came from a hospital pitcher.

And Bella Swan did not like hospitals.

"Gave everyone a reason to fret, sweetheart. Your sister's inconsolable, that adorable nephew of yours hasn't cracked a smile since. And your brother-in-law? Don't get me started on that man, honey. Though he means well," She hummed in amusement, glancing toward the doorframe where the door remained cracked.

Sucking in a surprised breath, Bella was left choking and sputtering, the stinging pain in her lungs making her cringe.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I should have waited for you to finish drinking!"

The nurse's apologies fell on deaf ears as Bella gaped up at her, eyes peeled as wide open as possible, her fingers trembling.

_Brother-in-law? Nephew?! Sister!_

Shouts from the hallway drew her nurse's attentions, and the gray-haired woman went scurrying away with an exasperated sigh and a promise to be back shortly.

Meanwhile? Bella Swan was freaking the hell out.

She was an only child, had been for the nineteen years that she had been breathing! She didn't have a sister, much less the brother-in-law and nephew that would come with having one! Did the nurse have her confused with someone else? She wanted to believe so, it would be a much simpler answer to the question than any alternative.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any hint that could point to why she would think such things were even a remote possibility.

There were multiple clusters of flowers arranged in front of a large window, the curtains drawn. Cards littered a small table, what looked to be a few homemade treats accompanied them. One of two decently sized chairs were piled high with blankets and pillows, but that was hardly surprising. It wasn't as if Charlie would sleep at home while she was in the hospital. Honestly, she was surprised he hadn't had her transferred to Forks General.

A frisson of unease tickled her senses when she spied a small basket of toys beneath the flower-covered table; what looked to be a mixture of coloring books, possibly legos, and a few toy cars. She brushed it off, remembering that Jared's little brother had been left with him for the summer, and it could easily have been left for him as a distraction during visiting shook off the wariness, happy to explain the toys away.

What she found looking back at her in the mirror though, that was a bit more difficult to explain.

Bella hadn't meant to scream.

Truthfully though, if you looked into the mirror and found an entirely different person staring right back at you, eyes blown wide with the same bewilderment that you felt, could you really say you wouldn't do the same?

Her hair was red.

Okay, perhaps not red, but strawberry blonde at the least.

It was strawberry blonde and it fell in tangled waves that brushed her waist, and it was all wrong. She didn't have red hair, had never had red hair, or any other hue of the sort. She had brown hair. Not red, brown. Chestnut, if she was being generous. It wasn't nearly as full, it didn't fall in tousled waves that actually looked semi-what decent, despite the hospital stay and extended sleeping. It certainly wasn't long enough to reach her waist, she could barely keep the tangles away on a good day, for pity's sake!

And it was never, ever, red.

She scrambled from her bed, ignoring the jolting ache where she had yet to heal, stumbling on unsteady feet until she collapsed against the reflective glass, peering back at herself. Because, it was her. There wasn't anyone else in the room, and it simply wasn't possible for it to be a joke.

Plus the expressions this strange girl made, they were spot on with her exact emotions.

_But...it's all wrong!_

Her hair was red and it was wrong, very wrong. Her cheekbones were a touch higher, her lips fuller, and her complexion was warmer than it had been. Still not Arizona warm, but warmer-than-Forks warm. She was shorter, by what had to be at least four inches. Her hips a bit curvier, her body itself a bit curvier.

_How...how could this happen?!_

But her hair was red and her eyes, they were a soft hazel that had been struck through with gray, like a star had burst across the iris and left behind stardust in her eyes. They were staring back at her from less than an inch away, so close that her nose brushed the glass, giving life to every tumultuous emotion that tightened her chest. So obviously hers, even though they couldn't be, _shouldn't be_.

And she couldn't keep the scream contained any longer.

The man that came bursting into the room, hitting the door so hard that it flew back, the handle lodging itself into the wall; he was too familiar for comfort. And yet, not familiar in the way he should have been. His hair was a reddish brown color, the cut clean and sharp. His jawline was dusted in stubble, and his eyes were a striking blue that reminded her briefly of the sky. His voice carried a southern twang, smooth and soothing.

But it was wrong.

He reached out to grab her then, and despite her mind screaming at her to get away, her body ignored her. Instead, it listened to an innate sense of trust, and gave itself the permission to shut down. Her vision was spotting, tiny black dots turning into clouds that blotted out anything and everything as she lost consciousness.

_Really should have known better. _

About three things, she was absolutely positive.

First, she totally body snatched some girl when she died. That's right, wherever her old body was? It was definitely dead. No one could survive that kind of damage.

Second, there was a part of her - and she wasn't entirely certain just how sane that part of herself might be - that was pretty sure she had somehow managed to land her danger magnet self in the middle of a freaking zombie apocalypse television series. Because she's Bella Swan, and it must be Thursday.

And third, she was unconditionally and irrevocably...fucked.

Yeah. That about summed it up.

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_There is no Beta to be had here! Please, let me know if there is something crazy out of line, within reason given that it's a crossover story! Thanks!_


	3. One

***Tiptoes in, wincing at how long it's been***

***Prays your forgiveness will be swift and whispers*** Um...well...so here's this. I'm iffy on it. What do you guys think?

***Darts off before she can be caught***

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_**Fifty-Nine Days Post Outbreak**_  
_**Quarry Camp**_  
_**Atlanta Outskirts, Georgia**_

The heat was already rising, blistering down on her shoulders from the near cloudless sky above. She stood on the hilltop, silent and still in the early morning, few others daring to disturb the last semblance of peace that the world seemed capable of offering. Only a handful of others had woken with the sun; stoking the fire to life so that breakfast could proceed on time, readying weapons so that the daily hunt could commence, replacing those who had kept their eyes peeled through the night, ensuring protection and safety through the darkness.

Her eyes had found the horizon from the moment she crested the hill, and they had yet to leave. Light filtering through the few thin wisps of clouds yet to be burned off by the sun glanced off the color of her eyes, leaving the gray lurking within the hazel to shimmer slightly. They burned from a lack of blinking, but she couldn't seem to force herself to look away.

The city line dotting the landscape was an eerie, deceptive picture to behold. The last of the fires had burned out weeks ago, leaving behind the husks of skyscrapers and office buildings, high rises and condominiums, unmanned and unpopulated.

Mere shells of their former glory.

From a short glance, it looked innocent enough. But she knew better. Death lurked there, roaming the once traveled streets. Atlanta was full of nothing but death and destruction now, and the occasional supplies that remained for the taking, if you were brave enough to try.

Or stupid, rather. Stupid seemed the better word.

She didn't flinch when he snuck up behind her, skimming one hand down her arm while the other settled at her waist. He towered over her, well tall enough to peer over her shoulder at what had captured her attention some hours before. A low sigh escaped him as the cityline appeared through the quickly burning off fog, and he pressed gentle lips to the top of her head.

"Bit early in the morning for this, ain't it sweetheart?"

The hum came from low in her throat, the only agreement she would give. It was better though, she used to stand there for hours, stiff and unmoving. Now, she was pliable, relaxing back into his chest without prompting, and he would be able to lead her back down the hill when the time came.

Their heads tilted as the stern call of a name resonated from below, drawing their eyes to the figure of a man with dark curls stood with another, the younger of the duo clutching anxiously at a worn baseball cap.

"It'll be soon," She sighed, the sound caught somewhere in a jumbled mess of both weariness and anticipation.

He made a noncommittal sound, his fingers tracing circles on her skin.

Eyes closing, she sunk back into the strong cradle of his chest, swallowing thickly around the lump that had grown in her throat, nearly cutting off the ability to simply breathe.

"He'll be home, soon."

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_**Two Years Pre-Global Outbreak**_  
_**King County Sheriff's Department**_  
_**King County, Georgia**_

Rick Grimes didn't think he had ever seen something that had made him as sick as he was, staring through the observation glass at the arrogant smirk adorning the face of the interrogation room's current occupant. The asshat sat there seemingly without a single care in the world, as if the heavy steel of handcuffs and chain weren't securing him to the aluminum table in the middle of a deserted room, guaranteeing that he would be going nowhere fast, any time soon.

He was a scrawny thing, too tall for his body, his skin a milky white color that Rick wasn't sure saw the sun very often. Which would make sense, given what had been found in the basement of his poor mother's home. It made him appear to be sickly, capable of less than he was, and clashed terribly with the bright orange of the prisoner jumpsuit he had been fitted in. His eyes were near pitch black in color, his hair a mop of bronze that lay in greasy strands on the top of his head.

It had taken them entirely too long to find him.

And Rick had hated himself for not being able to bring him in, a little more, with every day that had passed.

"Ready for this, boys?"

He tore his eyes from the one-way window, blinking his baby blues until they stung no longer as he turned, finding a man there in the observation room with him. Rick hadn't even heard the door crack, and it had a penchant for creaking.

The man had an authoritative aura that seemed to cling to his skin, one that had intimidated more than one of their rookie trainees who hadn't stayed clear of the rarely used guest law enforcement offices the the sheriff's department boasted. His hair was dark as pitch, falling in neat and orderly stands that were shaped into a clean cut style typically worn by those of his status. An equally trimmed and neat mustache set upon his upper lip, and his eyes were an earthy dark brown. He was surprisingly dressed; a pressed pair of dark-wash blue jeans, a deep blue button down shirt that was so blue it neared black, and a black sportcoat that accompanied a sharp tie and a black stetson. It wasn't often that a man like him came to town leading an investigation in some back county of Georgia, but the case had been one to make national headlines with its level of depravity and he'd shown up months previously, refusing to give up until it was closed.

Charles Raymond Swan, Deputy Director of the FBI, was the reason they had someone sitting on the other side of that glass. He'd done what Rick hadn't been able to do, and he would forever be grateful for it.

Swallowing thickly, and nearly choking when the heavy hand of Shane Walsh clapped down on his shoulder, he gave a short and jerky nod. Neither of the Sheriff Deputies were kidding themselves, they were hardly ready for the confrontation that awaited them. Rick could just barely manage to bring fresh oxygen in with every shallow breath and Shane's hand trembled where it rested on his shoulder, clenching down sporadically.

Dark eyes darting between each of them, Charlie Swan nodded his head once, fingers tightening around the heavy stack of files in his hands. "Now listen, no matter what you hear, you cannot go in-

"Man, cut the shit-" Shane snapped, his words cutting across the tension like a whip's crack.

Charlie glared and Rick reached out, placing a steadying hand on his best friend's shoulder, feeling the way the muscle rippled underneath, "Shane."

The dark haired man seethed, enough rage and pain stored up in his body that he shook as he glared through the observation glass. Rick understood, if there was anyone who wanted to lay hands on the scum that sat a mere twenty feet away, it was him. But that was the price they paid for the badge they wore, they'd taken an oath, and laying hands on the despicable excuse for a human being waiting within the room would violate that, not to mention ruin any chance for a solid case that meant they could toss him in a dark hole and throw away the key.

Swan glanced between them once more, one dark eyebrow arched high on an already tense forehead, waiting until Shane gave a sharp nod a moment later. He pulled in a breath, his hand lingering on the knob. "You don't come in, you don't use the intercom, you don't interfere in any way, whatsoever. If it becomes to much, you leave. Agent Henrickson can handle the observation in your place."

With that he yanked open the heavy steel door, breezing into the room like he wasn't the least bit worried, and dumped the stack of files on the table with a heavy thud.

Rick could just barely catch a glimpse of a photo that had slid from the pile, the gruesome sight of a decomposed body laid out across a floral bedspread caught forever on film.

"Edward Anthony Masen..." Charlie's voice was deep, like rock rolling across gravel. "You're in some shit, boy."

* * *

_**Fifty-Nine Days Post Outbreak**_  
_**Quarry Camp**_  
_**Atlanta Outskirts, Georgia**_

"Evie, can I talk to you a minute?"

She ignored the call of her name, the owner's voice tense and low, a poor attempt at concealing his decision to talk to her from the passing ear. Instead she focused on the seedlings she was mothering, adding just the right amount of water to foster better growth before they would transplant the younglings into the ground. The red dirt of Georgia was a far cry from the richness she had worked with in Washington once upon a time, but it would do. They had hauled in some sand from down at the quarry's basin, thus providing the needed aeration. As a result, she and a few others had managed some basic and wholesome veggies to compliment canned dinners.

"Alright now," He let out a huff through his words, the impatience peeking through. "I know ya can hear me, Evie."

The name had become one she had gotten used to in this new world, a nickname for her middle name that she apparently was known by. Bella didn't find herself minding much. It felt almost poetic, right somehow, that Isabella Marie had been left behind back in that old life. This new name though, she found she quite preferred. It was beautiful in its own way, and paid homage to whoever she had been in this life.

"Isabelle Evangeline!"

She threw down her gloves, rising to her feet as she spun around, a fine sheen of sweat wiped from her forehead despite the fact that it couldn't be half after ten in the morning, and snarled. "What Shane? _What!_"

Lifting her chin, hazel gray striking against something that was near black, and she refused to allow the tremor of unease she felt to ripple down her spine.

There was a time that Shane Walsh was one out of very few that made her feel safe in her new world, that he was someone she ran to when things became too much to handle all on her own. She had naively thought, really you would think she had learned with her first life, that her influence might change something. But here they were, and the disapproval tasted bitter on the back of her tongue.

His expression twisted into an irritated scowl and she scoffed.

"Need me to run interference while you get between my sister's thighs in a field of fungus again?"

The rage that seemed to vibrate from his imposing frame was only second to the fire that flashed in Bella's eyes, causing the gray starbursts to brighten until the striations were all you could bear to notice.

Shane's fists clenched tight, the tanned skin of worn knuckles whitening, and he took a half-step forward, almost like he couldn't decide what he wanted to do. The disrespect wasn't something he was used to, yet the sliver of guilt he still felt over what he'd done reminded him that the younger girl had every right to the desire to claw his eyes from his skull.

"There a problem here?"

Shane's eyebrows furrowed, drawing down in his frustration, and his teeth clenched so tightly that he heard the creak of his jaw. His gaze darted to the left, watching as two bodies peeled themselves away from the shadows created by heavy tree cover.

They were both tall, topping out somewhere around an inch or two over six foot in height, and they had the statures to match. Both were blondes, though one wore his long enough to brush his shoulders while the other left it a little shorter, and where one leaned toward a silvery blonde, the other claimed locks drenched in honey. Ranchers, he'd found out, brothers from a fifth generation ranch out in the big ole' state of Texas. He didn't know what his little Evie saw in them.

Well...she wasn't exactly _his_ little Evie anymore now, was she?

"Whitlock." He snapped, his chest rising while he planted his feet shoulder width apart, refusing to cow to the intimidating aura they projected.

Like you were prey, constantly being stalked.

"Walsh," They returned simultaneously, something that had always been a little off-putting. The sharp address was paired with curt nods of the head, barely a dip in recognition.

The honey blonde turned toward Bella where she stood, her hip and one leg propped up on the spare picnic table top. Hazel eyes flecked with a generous amount of green darted all over her body, searching out for anything amiss, before they met hers while a full pair of lips twitched upward in a faint imitation of a smirk.

"All good, kitten?"

Bella hummed, thoroughly enjoying the grimace that crossed the raven-haired officer's face, "Deputy Walsh here was just leaving."

"Evie, look I just wanted-"

Her eyebrows arched and her lips pursed in a whistle as she lifted the beat up watering can, her glove protecting delicate skin from the heat of the tin.

Shane let out an exasperated sigh, hands lifting to his hips. He ignored the low chuckles that came from the blonde duo, choosing instead to squint up at the blazing sun before glancing back at the girl he had once snuck out for midnight joyrides. He shook his head and turned, deciding to cut his losses for the morning.

"Lori is cutting Carl's hair and the squirt demands your presence so that she doesn't make him look like a ten year old boy," He called, stepping back toward the main part of the established camping site.

Bella laughed, the sound surprising them all, though she refused to look back at him. "He _is_ a ten year old boy!"

"Yeah well, apparently short hair ain't cool no more," Shane grumbled, sending a scathing glance to the long-haired men before he left.

The silence lasted only a moment, being broken by the general cacophony that made up a camp of near on thirty-five people, before the scuff of boot on dirt caught her ear, interrupting her hum. She glanced up, finding those same pair of eyes on her once more, this time joined by a pair of bluegreen in hue, as the boys settled their gear down on the picnic bench, the various hunting elements shining in the bright rays. Words were hardly necessary, though they would be spoken anyway, a conversation exchanged without uttering a sound.

If you had told Bella Swan there would come a time that she would know Jasper Whitlock -for he _was_ a Whitlock, neither Cullen or Hale could compare- and his brother, Peter, so well that they could exchange entire conversations without muttering a single word; she would have laughed.

Hysterically.

Yet, theirs had been the first faces among many that were far too familiar in such a bizarre circumstance that had soothed the madness -who wakes up to a second life in a television series, honestly- and they had reawakened her senses with such a jolting shock, she had finally managed to keep things straight. The never-ending reel of macabre memories and dreams finally settling within her chaotic mind.

It made for a pleasant end to her stint of being an amnesiac, that was certain.

Bella sighed, pushing thoughts of the past to the back of her mind as she leaned against the table between the two, her eyes sweeping along the camp as theirs did.

"How was it?" She finally murmured, casually leaning into Peter's side as his arm, steely with well used muscle, slipped around her waist.

He shrugged just as casually, though she wasn't blind to the tenseness that set his shoulders a bit rigidly. Her eyes flicked to Jasper, taking in the way that the small smile had flattened into a pressed line. His voice was gruff, the southern twang rich in tone and growing richer with his irritation.

"Killed two, bout'a mile out. Too close for comfort," Jasper hissed, roughly raking a hand through golden strands that were darkened ever so slightly with sweat. "Damn cans'er makin' these folks think they're safe. They ain't. Gonna lead to death."

Bella closed her eyes, red spatters and gunfire accompanied by shrill, desperate screams flashing across the backs of her eyelids. The gruesome reminder of the previous night's dream sent a shiver of terror rippling down her spine until her teeth chattered, and she sunk into the warmth of a large hand cupping the nape of her neck, drawing her back into their nightmarish reality.

"Yes," She sighed, almost resigned. "It will."


End file.
